


Vive la France

by fandomtrashiness



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Canon Era, Death, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrashiness/pseuds/fandomtrashiness
Summary: Instead of being killed, Enjolras and Grantaire are questioned by the national guard for information about the barricade. Enjolras cares about the revolution too much to talk, Grantaire cares about Enjolras too much to talk.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Vive la France

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first real les mis fic so sorry

“I won’t talk. Vive la France!” I say triumphantly.

The guardsmen grumble.

I guess they were expecting me to tell them what they wanted after 50 lashes with a belt.

Oh, and 10 with a whip.

“You’re a traitor to your country.” One of the national guards jeers.

“I love my country, I do this for her!”

“And you’ll die for her.” He threatens.

“My blood waters the seeds that grow our nation! As I fall, thousands rise!”

“Maybe your little friend can get you to talk…” The other man says.

Shit.

I forgot they have Grantaire.

They drag an almost sober Grantaire upstairs, and tie his wrists above his head, leaving him on his toes.

I’m tied to a chair facing him, and if anything, Grantaire just looks upset that he’s not holding a bottle.

“We already gave pretty boy here 60 lashes, won’t say a word. Then we got this idea, maybe hurting his ugly ass queer boyfriend will get him to talk.” The guard says, grabbing Grantaire’s chin in his grip.

“You’ll never be half the man Enjolras is.” Grantaire spits. “He’s the light at the end of the tunnel, Apollo raising the sun with his chariot when dawn breaks. He’s the marble angel in front of the church, no, he’s more! Enjolras is-”

The guard punches Grantaire in the jaw.

“If you think he’ll talk because you hurt a drunk cynic like me, you’re delusional.” Grantaire says, almost proudly.

He’s proud to be, in his eyes, below me. Ugly, cynical, nothing compared to the beautiful Enjolras he puts up on such a high pedestal.

He won’t give up any information, but not out of devotion to our cause and country.

It’s because of his devotion to me.

What can I even say to Grantaire?

The point of the revolution is the equality of all men, and Grantaire practically kneels at my feet!

The guardsmen tear off his shirt and start having their fun.

One of them belts him, another presses a lit cigar repeatedly into his skin.

All Grantaire does is stare into my eyes, and I stare right back.

We have our own conversation in our silence.

The men are laughing whenever Grantaire whimpers, but his eyes never waver.

He complained that the men wouldn’t give him alcohol, but with his senses unplagued by liquor I get one of the rare sights of seeing the real Grantaire.

His eyes alight with passion and defiance.

He does care about the revolution, he is taking this not just for me, but his friends from the barricade.

Our brothers.

There’s a loud crack, which I think might be his ribs.

He coughs up blood and smiles at me.

Well that’s pure flirting.

I wink back.

We’re going to die, I knew that from the beginning, really.

Death is still a victory, my death will lead the way for true change.

Grantaire is choking now, blood bubbling up out of his mouth.

“Vive la France.” He gurgles out.

And the light leaves his eyes.

“Red, the blood of angry men.”

The guards shout something at me, and I see a glint of silver, smell gunpowder.

“Vive la France!”

I’m back on the barricade, hugging Combferre, Courfeyrac, Joly.

Grantaire is here, singing, holding a bottle.

“Vive la France.” He grins at me.

I pull him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> what did you think? let me know!


End file.
